


Dare

by mysafeplaceishere



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Biting, Blood and Gore, Dark Magic, Dominance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Magic, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Slow Romance, Threats of Violence, Trust Issues, Violence, bh and reader both have idiot energy, black hat will yell at you, don’t mess with bh or reader will burn someone alive, flug and demencia are together, i ship it please leave me alone, reader has feelings she just hides them well, then ferociously smother you with love when feeling guilty, very protective boi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21591772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysafeplaceishere/pseuds/mysafeplaceishere
Summary: What you loved the most was taken from you, so you took everything from them. The sweet village girl you once were turned to be a cold blooded killer with a knack for black magic and talking back to mightier beings than yourself.One of these mightier beings wanted to kill you for trespassing on his land, but being the bold person you are, you dared him to kill you. Luckily for you, he liked the fire in your eyes, the black magic in your fingertips and how you boldly stated that you massacred an entire village in vengeance.You have him captivated. Unfortunately for you, that captivation is mutual.
Relationships: Black Hat (Villainous)/Original Character(s), Black Hat (Villainous)/Reader, Demencia/Dr. Flug (Villainous)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyyyy. Another Black Hat fic? Yes. I am not ashamed. I should be, but I am not. 
> 
> Just to clarify, this my own shot making an AU of some sort? So this Black Hat might be a tad bit different compared to the original—and so on. 
> 
> I’m just here to clear up a few things:  
> this fic is focused around the 1400’s—back when people were burned at stake and all that fun stuff. But it’s more of a fantasy sort of 1400’s if you catch my drift.
> 
> No, Black Hat is not Dracula or anything of the sort. Although in this fic he might be treated as some sort of legend or myth like Dracula. There will be no blood sucking here, kiddies. 
> 
> Flug and Dementia are together in this. I know this isn’t a lot of people’s cup of tea, but if you’re here to read about being with BH, I seriously doubt you’ll care much if paperhat/lizardhat is involved. If you do, I apologize and advise you to search out a better fic for your liking. 
> 
> Also, there is Latin in this. Mostly for the magic portion. I’ll leave translations in the end notes.
> 
> That’s pretty much it. Have fun being whisked away into whatever world I’ve come up with this time. :’)

There wasn’t a way to describe how  sick it made you feel.

People were cheering and dancing around the fire like they hadn’t killed an innocent woman at the stake. Her cries of pain when the orange flames licked her skin was the cutting edge of horrific, and while the villagers shouted at the top of their lungs in glee, you grieved the death of someone you loved like a mother. 

She practically was your mother, and to see the skin boil from her bones was a sight you could never forget. There was no way to forget the way her eyes had met your teary gaze through the fire. 

“ _Run,_ ” she had mouthed in her last moment.

Your life was in danger and it might as well have been your turn after her ashes and bare skeleton were cleaned from the stake, so you mouthed her one last heartfelt goodbye before fleeing for your life. While your whole village declared her death as victory against witches and demons alike, you spun on your heel and bolted from the scene as fast as your legs would carry you. 

All she wanted to do was learn magic that had come from forgotten times and they called her a witch because she loved the one thing humanity refused to accept. You saw magic in a light that no one else shared except for her. No one in their right mind would have wanted to risk their own safety to teach you everything forbidden, but she did. She welcomed you into her home with open arms, taught you how to be a successful mage, then was killed for being the only open minded human in the village. 

You could never forgive humans for what they had done. Never in a million years would you live along side these monsters that call themselves saviors to the planet  ever again. 

What your village hadn’t expected was the betrayal of one of their most prized citizens, and you came back with a vengeance that spread through the country. They took away the one thing you fought fearlessly for, so you took away their homes, their children, and everything they loved in return. By the end of the night, the village was in embers and the people you once loved to a fault were laying face down in the dirt.

There was only one man that remained after the chaos had settled. You told him to spread the word about what had happened that day. No detail of your teacher’s death and the fire that rained from the sky was to be spared. You made sure to give proof to his story by burning your handprint into the side of his face. 

No one could call him a liar. Not with the proof on his cheek and the traders to pass by what was once a village turned to ruins. Word would travel quickly, and quickly it did. 

Your name, your deeds and your malice was known throughout every large city in the country. No longer could you simply walk into town and buy a loaf of bread without people causing an uproar of your appearance. And for once, you liked how humanity looked at you—in complete _terror._

You went into hiding not long after. Built a small cabin deep in the forest far away from any city and lived by your lonesome in peace. But your stories of revenge never died out. In fact, you became a myth after a five years had passed. No one wanted to accept the truth that you were still roaming the earth with a hatred for everyone but yourself. 

Your real name was soon to never be spoken of—as if it was some kind of taboo—but they made sure to give you a new one that could be spoken without consequences. 

You became known as the mage that killed a whole village in spite for the death of your teacher; a witch. You dared to be a criminal, a heartless killer, and a user of black magic. 

Now you’re known as Dare the Mage,  and their hatred has never tasted so sweet.

•••

There is peace in the way colors fall from the sky during a heavy sunset. Especially on the days where there is no clouds to drown away the pinks, oranges, purples and reds from a sky that looks as if it could fall at any moment. 

Although it is breathtaking and makes you pause to admire the sun going to sleep for the day, there is nothing like standing under sea of stars that glow bright enough to shed a thin layer of light through the trees at night. The night brings no warmth but the coolness of the darkness is enough to bring you serenity.

Well, it did. Now you’re just cold and developing a bad mood.

You survey your surroundings with narrowed eyes and a crinkled brow. Without the brightness of the moonlight, you can’t tell the differences between which fork in the road is the right path to head down. Not to mention that all the trees look the exact same in the shadows, and the shadows look like they want to swallow you whole. 

You cock out your hip and rest your palm on your hipbone with a displeased exhale through your nose. The longer you stare at the fork in the road, the more tension gathers in your shoulders and runs down your back. The cool night air is enough to keep you steady and thinking clear, but if you’re stuck in the woods for another hour, you might just lose your mind. 

Not to mention the feeling of electricity that hangs in the air. It keeps licking at your bare skin with sharp shocks. Every time you rub the area to calm the irritated skin, the bite of electricity comes back uglier. 

When you left your cabin for a stroll around the forest, you didn’t think you would get lost. You must have traveled so far out of your bubble that even the woods you have mapped out time and time again is completely stranger to you. None of the fallen trees, thickets, and leaning oaks catch your eye as they should. You got caught up in your thoughts and by the time you came out of your head, the forest you called home grew to be foreign.

You pinch the bridge between your eyes to quell the inner frustration rising up your throat like bile during a time of sickness. Why didn’t you learn that levitation spell while you had the chance? You could be soaring over the trees right back to your home without a worry in the world. Now you’re digging your heels into the dirt of a makeshift road and threatening to combust into a mess of curses and slurs. 

If all else fails, burn everything to the ground. Surely you would be able to find your way then. 

With one final huff of annoyance, you shuffle forward to the right of the fork. The worst thing that could happen is ending up at a city during broad daylight, and even then people wouldn’t want to mess with you. A mob would be the least of your problems. 

You stumble down the dirt pathway, picking small sticks and leaves from your hair. A wind sweeps by and you curl into yourself for warmth and safety— both from the wind and the bites of electricity. Goosebumps crawl up and down your arms and legs while you stagger along, occasionally tripping over a tree root or the smallest of pebbles. You grumble under your breath at the chill that continues to seep beneath your clothes, reminding you how far from home you are. 

“This the last time I travel anywhere without a map,” you hiss under your breath, “I knew better than to— _oof!_ ”

You stumble backwards a few steps before tripping over your cloak and hitting the ground. The air is ripped from your lungs and you roll to your side, cradling your middle and coughing into a patch of grass. Tears gather in the corner of your eyes as you gasp back in the lost oxygen from the fall. 

You take a second to breathe deeply, eyes searching the area in front of you. The gathered tears run down your face as you stand on wobbly feet, cradling the sore spot on your temple. 

You’re positive that you ran into something. It knocked you back. You know  something did. 

But all you can see is an endless ocean of trees swaying in the breeze.

You purse your lips, uneasiness settling deep within your gut, and reach out in front of you with spread fingers. Your fingertips brush up against an unseen forcefield and the surface ripples when you press your palm down into it. The untrusting expression on your face morphs into one of awe at the realization. 

This is a magic barrier. A gigantic magic barrier that probably pans out a few miles. No wonder the electricity in the air was eating away at your skin. Your own magical properties must have connected to it. 

The hairs on your arms and back of your neck stand tall when you press both hands to the transparent surface. This magic almost feel soft like silk against your hands, but the rush of dread that settles deep into your stomach is enough to let you know it isn’t just a barrier. This thing is made out of black magic and no ones dares to use it. 

Except you, of course.

You could force a hole wide enough through the barrier to get yourself to the other side. Even when you were learning magic from your teacher, she never gave you a chance to break through a magic spell like this one. Or least she never taught you how to properly manipulate one to your liking. Especially if it involved black magic of any kind.

This could open so many opportunities for you, but who knows what is on the other side. If someone put up a magic barrier, they meant to keep trespassers out. No one uses black magic, or any kind of magic, anymore. Every mage from the old times were either burned to death or died of old age. It was one in a million chance that a mage like yourself just so happen to stumble across another mage’s territory. 

You glance behind you, biting your bottom lip in contemplation. There could be a real risk passing through the silky surface, but at the same time, you have to know who put it up in the first place. They’re using magic.  Magic . There is a chance, although so very slim, that you found someone to share knowledge with. That is unless they don’t want you snooping around  their personal bubble. 

Consequences or no consequences—you have to know why the barrier is here in the first place. The curiosity would came back to bite you in the end, so why not get it over and done with? You aren’t going in without any weapons, either. The dagger shoved in your boot and the plentiful plethora of spells you have stored away should be enough defense on their own.

“ _Festucam_.“

As soon as the command leaves your mouth, the barrier splinters up the middle with a thunderous clap that causes your determination expression to melt into one of terror. The sound vibrates your chest and splinters your eardrums, but you pay the pain no mind.

_ ”Shatter.” _

The barrier comes undone and bursts apart as commanded. You shuffle back a few steps as black flames, darker than the sky above comes licking from he opening, as if this was the last defense to keep out unwanted guests. They’re almost life like as they lap at the open air for something to grasp on to, and you stare with a crinkle in your brow. 

The flames are familiar and yet you know they didn’t come from you. Not this time, at least. But the shade of black and burning vengeance overlapped with blood and screams and pleading comes rushing back over your head like a river after a heavy rain. The taste of blood and sweat lingers on your tastebuds but you know that your mind is just deceiving you.

You blink to clear your sudden frustration and old, unwanted memories from your head. Although the sudden trigger of memories long since passed gave you a pause, you still plan on finding whoever put up the barrier and nothing can stop you from doing it.

Really, nothing can stop you from getting to the bottom of this mystery, but the being you just intrigued and angered worse than a thousand suns plans on making you regret it in your last moment alive. Which will be soon.

No one messes with Black Hat, purposeful or accidental, and gets away with it. Especially when it involves the privacy of his home and the secret of his existence. Truth won’t be spilled from anyone’s lips.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I so sorry for the long wait! I found myself getting distracted by other fandoms and writers block hit me pretty hard.
> 
> Please forgive me. I swear the next chapter WILL contain our beloved Black Hat.

You keep wracking your mind for answers over and over again but the logical side of yourself tells you there is no way to explain why there is a _castle_ in the forest, hidden away by a barrier of black magic.

A castle was the last thing you thought you would find, yet here you are, staring up at the massive pile of charcoal colored stone that looks as if it reaches taller than the clouds in the nighttime sky. The color of the monstrosity shines against the moonlight as if it was a gem itself. You can’t help but admire the complexity of its standing figure.

It seems to be quite old from a quick glance. Vines have already begun to creep up the sides of the castle and grow into the blistering cracks of the beautifully molded stone. What caught your attention wasn’t the castle in its whole self at first—it was the large, gaping crack that starts from the first window at the top all the way down to the foundation. It was as if an earth quake had shook the ground with so much force the castle itself came up from the ground and landed hard enough to splinter the whole thing from top to bottom.

You bite at your bottom lip in deep thought, eyebrows furrowed and eyes trained to the top window of the castle. No one could see the castle because of the barrier, which in an amazing feat in itself; seeing as casting an invisibility spell that large would take a ton of inner magic to conjure up, but what irks you the most is the fact that up until now you couldn’t see it. Whoever lives in there can see everything. You bet every coin in your purse that your small, comfy cabin can be seen from that window. The rising smoke from the dying fire held inside your fireplace could probably be seen from a height like that. 

Suddenly, the safety of your lonesome cabin in the woods doesn’t feel so lonesome anymore. 

There were stories, myths more like, that your parents used to tell you when you were but a small child—small enough that you hadn’t lost them yet. They told you stories of a strange light that had fallen from the sky during the break of dusk. Story goes that people of a nearby city had seen the strange light and heard it hit the earth with a clap of raw, thunderous sound only a few miles away. A small group ventured out of their homes and away from their families to investigate the thing that had fallen from the sky, hopeful that it was a star or a piece of the moon itself. 

What they got? Something not even the most mentally tortured soul could conjure up in their worst state of mind. It was anything but a star. In fact, you were told that it spilled over the dirt like ink over a glass bottle, yet this thing could smile. A bright white, gut wrenching smile; not some genuine smile, but one that was all sharp ends, dripping saliva and curling malice. 

Its eyes were inhuman. Some people will say that it had an eye that could rip a soul from ones body if looked into, but you like to think it is just speculation and misheard tales told from the elderly. 

The story ends with this thing, whatever it may have been, slaughtering the whole group and disappearing into the thickness of brush that made up the edge of the forest. The figure made of molten shadows never showed itself again. Although to this day people still wonder if its still lurking through the trees, waiting for an unfortunate traveler to fall into its grasp.

You were petrified as a child. This thing, which probably doesn’t even exist, haunted your dreams, your fears, and every footstep you took. You don’t fear such myths now but the fright that had such a hold on you all those years ago curls a hand around your throat and squeezes. Your palms start to sweat at the sudden realization that maybe you just stumbled upon something that was never meant to be seen. 

Something, human or monster, has to live in a castle that huge. You feel as if there are eyes all over you, and that alone makes your skin crawl. It makes your inner voice, the hidden childlike fears smothered away by years of pain, scream _“run and never look back.”_ You almost wince at how loud the metaphorical shriek is inside the compacted space of your skull. 

You have magic and a dagger to protect you but somehow that doesn’t feel like enough after swimming in your fears for too long. The curiosity and determination that swelled your chest deflates and you retreat back into the forest with a clench of your jaw. 

The castle was beautiful, amazingly breathtaking in every way. But you don’t want to find out who lives in such a beautiful castle. You may be a coward for bolting but you would very much rather be a coward and alive over brave and dead.

You killed a village of humans, not a village of monstrosities from space. No, you aren’t going to get beheaded this night. 

That’s what you tell yourself, at the least. The shadow watching you from the window of his castle doesn’t seem to share that same thought with you. 

After spending the rest of the night trudging through the same trials as before, around the break of dawn is when you finally made your way back home. 

There was a lot of glancing over your shoulder and jumping at the sounds of the forest. You could have sworn that the one time you stopped to take a break, leaned up against a decaying tree that a whisper broke through the silence. It was faint and drifted in the wind, but you swore on your life that someone had exhaled quiet threats not too far away. 

You sped walked the rest of the way back. There was a lot of losing track of the makeshift dirt pathway and trying to locate it after running with your tail between your legs, but you finally saw the glow of candles from your cabin and knew that you were back to where you belonged. The light from the candles fended off all intrusive, gut wrenching thoughts you had throughout the night. 

It was good to come home to the smell of fresh bread and minimum warmth from your fire that had long since turned to warm charcoals. It was still better than tracking around in the dark without anything but your clothes and the fear induced blood rushing to your face to keep warm. 

A weary sigh leaves your parted lips as you poke at the newly made fire with a stick. The orange flames do no good at captivating you like they usually do. Not in the way you want them to. There is no comfort while staring into the void of burning wood, only the continual dread that makes your shoulders tense and your head ache. 

There is no telling how poor you must look. You have yet to pull the multiple of twigs and leaves from your hair, nor have you felt relaxed enough to sleep away the dark circles under your eyes. Anytime you feel as if you might finally drift off, the prickle of eyes on your back makes it impossible to rest. 

You know something is outside of your cabin. Your simple location spell you had cast over your property all those years ago sent a magical trickle of warning up from your palms and into your fingertips. 

Something is watching you and waiting for the right moment to catch you off guard. You ball your hands into fists, knuckles turning white at the stressful clench, and you stand from the floor with a scowl. 

Paranoia and being dead sure are two completely different things, and you’re positive that the cold gaze crawling across your body is more than paranoia. The last person that thought it wise to stalk your every move is no longer alive. The were reported as a missing person for a few months after their sudden disappearance. 

Curiosity kills the cat, as they say. Only if their curiosity brings them to you, the satisfaction will not bring them back.

You shrug off your cloak, pluck the dagger from your boot and step outside to survey the area with a narrowed gaze. As per usual, nothing looks at of place like you were hoping. You expected some kind of evidence to prove that you aren’t having another paranoia episode, yet the small yard around your cabin looks as untouched as when you arrived. 

Maybe you’re a fool for leading this person back to your beloved abode, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy a good game of cat and mouse. Just right now you’re irritable and running on fumes to stay awake. 

You murmur a few curses under your breath when nothing emerges from the forest at your silent challenge. The weight of your eyelids are starting to make your eyes burn and exhaustion in your limbs are near next to painful the longer your rock back and forth on your heels. You finally give up with a sigh, shoulders heaving forward at the exasperated beating of your heart. 

You rake a hand through your hair just the savor the taste of the wind before heading back inside. Unfortunately, when you turn around to set your dagger on the table and shut the door, the figure standing in your doorway hits you over the head with their blunt weapon. 

You want to gasp at the revelation of someone being in your home without your knowing it but your vision goes fuzzy as you stumble back, clutching your skull with a silent moan of pain. The figure steps out of your doorway and through your swaying vision you can make out the figure of a woman. You take a brief moment to pull your hands back from your head to find that the one hand pressed to the wound wasn’t enough to keep the blood from gathering through your fingers and spilling down your wrist.

“Great,” you slur, shuffling your feet through the grass, “this is just what I needed.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Don’t take offense to any of this, okay? I’m just following orders.”

You fall to your knees, too weak from the possible concussion and loss of blood to keep yourself on your feet. You could mumble a healer spell under your breath that could give you the edge you need to fight back, but for some reason you can’t find the right words to use such spell. All of your thoughts are jumbling together and exploding behind your eyes. 

“Dementia, Black Hat said not to kill her!” 

Another voice, the complete opposite to the one calling you sweetheart, cries out in distress. The woman—at least you think it is—begins to laugh at the other persons worry. Your vision starts to dim and your body begins to slump into the ground. 

“Don’t worry so much, Doll! This one is durable. Everyone else I’ve hit with this thing,” the sound of metal hitting skin catches your ears, “usually dies on the spot. She will make it back to the castle. Let’s get her back to the boss before we end up on his kill list, yeah?”

You did your best trying to hold on to reality but your body eventually taps out with one last defining pop of your hearing loss.

“We better. She’s bleeding out, and fast.”

Your eyes rolls into the back of your head and you fall completely limp, blood staining your hand and persecutors reeling back at the mess they had made. 

•••

You attempt to open your eyes a few times but the exhaustion of the situation before hand sinks deeper into your muscles. All of the energy you have to spare is put into raising your hand and pressing it to your bleeding temple. 

A soft _“sana,”_ leaves your lips and the wound on your temple flares to life with a fiery pain. You grit your teeth at the healing process of flesh sewing itself back together at the expense of your comfort. Along with the sewing of ones flesh, your other ailments vanish as if they hadn’t been there to begin with. The ache under your skulls dies and the pressure keeping you from opening your eyes dulls to a bearable numbness. 

“This could be worse,” you grumble, the rawness of your voice making you wince.

You flicker your eyes to adjust to any surrounding light. Tears bubble to the surface at the harsh lights making contact with your corneas but you blink them away. The weariness of your prior exhaustion hits you like a ton on bricks and you lean forward to cradle your head in your hands. 

Okay, all you have to do is recap. What happened last? 

You remember seeing the castle, losing yourself in a second of childhood fears from myths, then making your way back home to sit by the fire. Everything is foggy after that, but you do recall hitting the ground after being hit over the head. 

You were kidnapped. That’s right. 

_ Wait, you were kidnapped. _

A rush of panic mixed with a heavy dose of adrenaline gives you the edge needed to scramble off of the bed you had been laying on. You gather yourself close to the nearest wall, the spell of a command to kill on the tip of your tongue, before you spot someone sitting on a chair by the bedroom exit.

They’re casually reading a book. You don’t think they are even aware that you had woken up.

You seal any noise shut with a tight purse of your lips. The emotion in your eyebrow dips into cautious curiosity when studying the person sitting by the door as a guard, book tucked in their hands. The crisp crumbles of a page being turned and your under the breath heaving are the noises provided for your ringing ears.

You would like to say there is a man sitting in this unknown room with you but the black leather mask with the comically large goggle leases for eyes and pointed nose that resembles a birds beak makes it difficult to determine. They wear a long button up coat that matches the shade of black as their unsettling mask. The only bit of skin you can see is from their hands holding the book.

Your teacher often told you stories of her travels. She told you of plague doctors who would offer medical attention to any man or woman—poor or rich. While she never did go into much detail about them, only their appearance, she did mention how they started to thin out over her lifetime. 

A real plague doctor. The childish nature buried under your recent years of pain would love to bubble to the surface at this new find. The particular predicaments stop you letting your inner child out, however.

“Am I going to have to _kill_ you to get out of here?”

The person’s breathing hitches at your low-toned threat. They lift their head from their book and tilt their gaze at you in return to your cross stare. With a nervous hum, the book is shut and set off to the side. You hold in a breath when they stand up to dust off their coat, slipping on a pair of leather gloves set of the nearest side table.

“I was waiting for you to say something. Thanks for healing yourself, by the way,” they murmur, flicking some dust off their shoulder as if you hadn’t just threatened to end their life.

A guy, you conclude. The body type and the tone of voice gives it away. His voice isn’t particularly deep and gravelly as it should be but it lacks a certain feminine charm. Not that it matters any more to you then it did a split second ago. If need be, you will claw your way past him.

You observe the way his hands clench together, as if he knows you could kill him with a snap of your fingers. A shaky exhale leaves through the clenched cracks of your teeth. It does no good in calming you.

“Don’t ask me any questions. I’m not the person you should be asking,” he holds his hand up to stop you from opening your mouth, “but I can take you to someone who can. Although it won’t end well for you. Death, most likely.”

You squint your eyes at him, teeth clenched so tight that your jaw begins to ache. “You make them sound so inviting. I’ll _pass._ ”

He flinches when you hiss the last work out from your clenched jaw. Your brow quirks at that, and as if sensing your confusion, he scratches the back of his neck with an explanation.

“I know who you are. A murderous mage that sparks terror in all that lay eyes on her. No, I am not scared of you because there are worse creatures than even yourself, but I know when I should keep cautious against people like _you.”_

Your threats of death and murder die in your throat at that. The plague doctor scans you from head to toe, nods to himself, then opens the bedroom door and motions you to follow him without another word. You watch him disappear into the hallway and the breath you kept held in your lungs comes rushing out.

This is _madness._ You get lost in the woods, find a castle, get kidnapped and now you’re considering the thought of just following this stranger without any knowledge except you might die when you reach his destination. With great possibility, you being in said castle.

Your stomach churns with anxiety when you let your hands retract back to your side after being palms pressed against the wall. Are you really considering this? No one in their right mind would be so calm in a situation such as this. This is almost  blasphemy against yourself.

No one survives these ordeals. You should know that better than anyone—kidnapping isn’t foreign in any of your activities. Only this time you’re the victim at risk of certain slaughter, not the other way around.

If you take any step outside of this room, you have a fifty percent rate of death. You could stay put, pressed the wall of someone else’s bedroom and wait it out. Even then, your survival rate would still be cut in half.

“I can’t survive his. I have to stay here and protect myself,” you whisper under the panicked rush of your breath.

And yet, you find yourself stumbling after him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sana=Heal

**Author's Note:**

> Festucam= Splinter


End file.
